
.-VIRGINIA DARE 

.L3 V5 
1909 

copv. AND OTHtR POEMS 




HENKy RANDOLPH LATIMER, Ph.B. 




Class T S ^ d,^ ^ 
Book ^ L 3 Vj 



Copyright]^". 



^03 



COPWIGHT DEPOSrr 




HENRY RANDOLPH LATIMER, Ph.B. 



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VIRGINIA 
DARE 

AND OTHER POEMS ^TM 




BY 

HENRY RANDOLPH LATIMER, Ph.B. 



Illustrated by 
V. ALBERT 
and J. BOWES 




BALTIMORE, MD., tJ. S. A. 



///( 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 

Two CoDies Received 

MAK 27 ^m 

. CopyriKnt Entry ^ 
CLASS C\_ AXc Mo 



.Lj3\/5 



Copyright, 1907, by Henry Randolph Latimer 



SECOND EDITION 



Copyright, 1909 by Henry Randolph Latimer 



VIRGINIA DARE, OR THE LOST COLONY OF 

AMERICA 

I. The Adieu 8 

II. The Voyage 9 

III. The Settlement 12 

IV. The Council Fire 16 

V. Croatan 19 

VI. The Attack 21 

VII. Prayer and Answer 25 

THE SOUL'S HIGH DAY 26 

A STORM AT EVE 27 

THE THIEF 28 

A FAIRY 30 

MY BONNIE BRIDE 31 

SORROW 32 

MAY 32 

MY MOTHER 33 

TO ELSIE 34 

THE RIVER AND THE ROAD 35 

LAUNCHING 36 

YOU AND I 37 

RAINDROPS 38 

UPON A LADY'S TOE 39 

A LITTLE SISTER 40 

KITTENS 41 



6 

tonttntB (continued) 

EVENING 41 

KING ARTHUR 42 

THE GOAL OF LIFE 43 

MY LADY 44 

DYING EMBERS 45 

A DREAM OF WEALTH 46 

A BIRTHDAY GREETING 47 

TRANSMISSION 47 

TO MOTHER 48 

GRATITUDE 49 

A SILVER WEDDING 50 

LIZA'S LAMENT 51 

AN EPITAPH 52 

MY TEACHER 53 

PROVIDENCE 54 

DESIRE 55 

YOUNG AMERICA 56 

FAITH'S DOMINION 58 

VIRGINIA FORD 59 

PITY'S OFT UNKIND 60 

OUR GUARDIAN 62 

TRANSGRESSION 63 

HOPE 66 

MILITARY HYMN 68 

ADIEU 70 



(Pitginta ©atr^t 

or t^t 

Bob( €ofong of oEntmca 





Mother England, farewell; 

belov'd parent, adieu! 
O remember thy children, the 

venturesome few. 
We are borne o'er the water, 

fulfiUing thy fate; 
We are leaving our homes to 

enlarge thy estate; 
We will wave the fair ensign 

of Albion's pride 
O'er the boundless expanse 

where the bison roams wide. 
So, be kind to the dear ones 

we leave in thy care; 
Let thy love bring the^ 

solace our pres- 
ence would 

bear; 
And remember thy children, 

the venturesome few. 
Mother England, farewell; 

belov'd parent adieu! 





II 

jHE sails were adjusted, the little fleet rode. 
Triumphantly bearing its brave little load 
Who brook'd not the thought of a watery grave 
Beneath the Atlantic's tumultuous wave. 
The Sun beam'd his brightest, the Sky swept her blue. 
As gaily the voyagers wav'd their adieu. 
The Sea's mighty bosom rose calmly, and fell ; 
There was peace on the billow, and rest in the swell. 
The Wind whisper'd, " Onward ! " and lent a firm hand ; 
The tiny crafts skimm'd to'rd the far-distant land. 
The Sun quoth, " Behold me, and follow my lead ; 
When I have pass'd on, the mild Moon will succeed. 
I'll see you again on the morrow, perhaps ; 
Unless Mother Earth doth assume her gray wraps 
For fear I might captivate some of her brood." 
The sails flapp'd assent, and the vessels pursu'd. 
The Sun disappear'd o'er the glittering deep. 
Dark, diamond-eyed Heaven awoke from her sleep, 
The mirror-like water reflected the stars 
And dangled the shadows of rigging and spars. 
The " Empress of Night," on her silvery steed. 
Rode high in the heaven and pass'd to the lead. 



Beholding the land of America smile, 

She left the fair Danube and beautiful Nile 

To foster the love of the Indian horde, 

Whose ignorance deifi'd her as their Lord. 

Elated by praises the Savages gave, 

She sank, in her ecstasy, under the wave ; 

But, far to the eastward, awoke the " Gray Dawn," 

And ruddy Aurora led in the new morn. 

Yet, ere the Sun stoop'd for his evening bath. 

The seamen saw signs of Dame Nature's wild wrath. 

The atmosphere, calming, grew sultry and hot ; 

Pale flashes of light from horizon clouds shot ; 

And, ere the Moon rose to illumine the night. 

The Earth drew her veil and the calm took its flight. 

The hurricane bore from the eastward amain — 

The thunder roll'd bass to the treble of rain, 

The wind wove harmonics and howl'd as it swept. 

The sea in its fury the vessel deck leapt, 

The billow roar'd out as the storm drove it by. 

The lightning perpetually tore the dark sky ; 

Yet, those little crafts rode the surges down well, 

And bore their brave load from the jaws of a hell. 

Too horrible far for the poet to pen. 

And far too depressing to depict unto men. 

Avoiding each other, yet keeping in sight, 

They wrestled the storm through that long, weary night. 

The veil was withdrawn from Aurora's clear brow, 

"Whose beauty was ne'er more entrancing than now. 

The weather was fair, and the sailors were true ; 

The tiny barks skipp'd o'er the treacherous blue — 

On, hopefully, gaily, by day and by night. 

All hailing the vessel transporting John White — 



John White, belov'd leader of this daring band, 
And first English ruler o'er Occident land. 
At last, their brave hearts bounded high with delight 
As, far to the westward, land loom'd within sight, 
And rapidly ran to the eastward to meet 
The &ea-weary eyes of that stout little fleet. 
Sincere were the thanks unto Heaven outpour'd ; 
And, skirting the coast to the northward, they moor'd. 




^^^HE ring of axes fill'd the isle ; 
^^^ The artist hand touch'd Roanoke; 
Hut after hut, in quaint old style, 
The settler's honest toil bespoke. 

The dovetail'd wall of new hewn log, 
The earthen roof, and leaf-spread floor, 

Though now deem'd scant abode for dog. 
Then untold charm for settler bore. 

The rustic town of Raleigh rose 
Beside the mighty, restless sea. 

Whose breakers spent their angry blows 
Unheeded by the brave and free. 

The children play'd upon the sand 
And skimm'd the pebble o'er the tide ; 

Forsooth, this is a goodly land. 
And here shall Britain's ensign ride. 

Each sunset bade the weary rest, 
And slumber stole his care away ; 

The dawn awoke in ev'ry breast 
The heart to toil another day. 



13 




While reverence for the August sun 
Forbade the axman's manly stroke, 

A stranger came, a little one, 
" Virginia Dare of Roanoke." 



First offspring bom of Saxon clay 
Beyond the ocean's mighty span, 

The idol of her town she lay. 
The jewel of her ancient clan. 



14 

The nut-brown lads from two to ten 
Began to woo the chubby maid, 

And talk'd of knightly deeds, as men, 
They'd do beneath the forest shade. 

Nor dreamt they, at that very time. 
The Red Man of the sombre wood 

Was meditating deadly crime. 

And thirsted for their guileless blood. 

In course of time, the settlers fear'd 

Gaunt Famine would patrol their town; 

So, bade John White the sea-lion beard 
And face the Tempest's awful frown. 

This father, grandsire, ruler, sage, 

Despite the perils of the sea. 
Despite the ills of waning age. 

Set sail without one selfish plea. 

He deeply fear'd a dearth of food. 
And so conform'd to their request ; 

But well he saw nor lik'd the mood 

Which lurk'd within the Savage breast. 

His lov'd ones linger'd on the sand, 
And wav'd him fond, prolong'd adieu; 

The sea roU'd wide twixt fleet and strand, 
And, rising, hid the sails from view. 

The dusky " Lord of Roanoke," 
In silence saw the sad farewell, 

Frown'd on the seaward-gazing folk. 
And felt his faithless bosom swell. 



15 

The settler turn'd him to his work, 
But sadness bore the spirit down ; 

A dire foreboding seem'd to lurk 
Within the bosom of the town. 

Virginia's sire, the bold young Dare, 
Withdrew his musket from the wall, 

Adjusted it with hunter's care. 

And, kneeling, breath'd a pray'r for all. 





gg^g jHE wigwam circled wide the fire; 
1^^ The ruddy flame, with dancing smile, 
Close clasp'd the log in warm embrace. 
Coquetting, sparkhng, leaping high'r, 
Till beauty crown'd the fagot pile 
And, spreading, lost itself in space. 

The native chieftains of the Isle 
Encircled close the roaring pile 

And talk'd of cruel war. 
Chief 'mongst the chiefs was Manteo, 
The Saxons' trusted, subtle foe, 

The settlers' " Evil Star." 

This crafty " Lord of Roanoke," 

This faithless " Peer of England," rose. 

And, in the rippling Indian tongue, 

Thus to the tattoo'd Savage spoke : 

" See, braves, our stealthy, pale-faced foes! 

'Tis time the serpent's fang had stung ! 

" They come to rob us of our wood, 
They come to spill our brave young blood, 

Exterminate our race ; 
They deem the Red Man but a dog. 
They steal his wits away with grog. 

And mock him in disgrace. 



17 

" The Mighty Spirit bids us go, 

Ignore the White Man's artful plea 

And drive him from our hunting ground. 

Each brave make ready now his bow! 

'Sons of the Forest,' follow me, 

And loud the Red Man's war-cry sound ! " 

" Nay, nay, great Chief! " cri'd Croatan; 
" Such haste doth not become our clan, 

These pale-face folk are wise ! 
Permit me. Chieftain Manteo, 
To treat with yonder daring foe. 

To clear these stormy skies. 

" 'Tis better that the life-blood surge 
Within the bosom of the brave 
Than stain the verdure of our Isle ; 
'Tis wiser not to sound the dirge, 
'Tis shrewder far to cheat the grave, 
And meet yon Pale Face smile for smile." 

Lord Manteo made fierce reply : 

" 'Twere better that the whole tribe die 

Than live in foul disgrace ! " 
" Nay, nay ! " responded Croatan ; 
" Thus shrieks the fiend, how speaks the man? 

No foulness mocks our race." 

Full high and higher ran debate ; 
But Croatan at length prevail'd 
And won the council to his side. 
Lord Manteo, imbu'd with hate. 
Beset with fury, storm'd and rail'd, 
And could not there be pacifi'd. 



i8 

The council clos'd, the night went by, 
The morning saw an azure sky 

And heard the axman's stroke ; 
Chief Croatan and Captain Dare 
( Drew up a treaty, just and fair, 

^^y' Between their hostile folk. 



V 

Ctoatan 

HE seasons march'd their cohorts round 
Twice o'er the Red Man's hunting ground ; 
The idol of her town could walk, 
The jewel of her clan could talk. 
Chief Croatan was often seen 
Among fair children on the green ; 
The settlers lov'd the good old man, 
And call'd him " Father Croatan." 
He taught the Saxon lads to swim, 
And train'd them well in arm and limb ; 
He taught them how to draw the bow, 
The fatal tomahawk to throw; 
He urg'd them up the lofty oak, 
Unveil'd to them " Old Roanoke " ; 
He show'd them how to trap the hare, 
To track the wild fox to his lair ; 
From him they learn'd to cast the hook. 
To cover tracks and wade the brook ; 
He taught them, too, to dodge the dart. 
And drill'd them well in warlike art. 
Yet, though the old chief lov'd the boys. 
At times he weari'd of their noise ; 

'Twas then he sought the house of Dare 

And sav'd the good dame many a care. 

He haul'd the water from the spring, 

And made the keen, old wood-axe ring. 

He fed the poultry ; rubb'd the horse ; 

And prov'd a never-ending source 

Of pleasure to the little maid. 

Who, fearlessly, about him play'd, 

And, with her dimpled cheeks aglow. 

In his dark palm, laid hers of snow. 



He lov'd the merry little girl, 

He lov'd her dainty, golden curl ; 

And, when her bright eyes droop'd and clos'd. 

He walk'd until the sweet child dozed. 

One sunset as the old chief play'd 

Among the lads and with the maid, 

Grim Manteo came stalking by, 

Dark vengeance glaring from his eye. 

The timid maiden saw, and fled ; 

The good chief shook his hoary head, 

Indulg'd an extra game or two, 

And wav'd his youthful chums adieu. 

He disappear'd among the trees, 

Where none pursu'd him save the breeze. 

Which murmur'd in his ready ear, 

" Old Croatan, thou know'st no fear ; 

Yet, Croatan, be wise, beware ! 

For Manteo hath laid a snare 

To sweep thee from his lordly path. 

That he may vent his long-pent wrath." 

The camp-fire roar'd, the forest frown'd. 

The chieftains clos'd the flame around; 

False Manteo denounc'd the White, 

And call'd upon his braves to fight. 

Though Croatan pour'd out his heart, 

His tongue had lost its magic art; 

The council went with Manteo, 

Stamp'd Croatan " a traitor, foe ! " 

And would have slain the good old man, 

Have shed the blood of Croatan ; 

But he had vanish'd from their sight, 

And hid him in the gloom of night. 





VI 

^ge Mttad 

[TRAIGHT to the town the old warrior sped, 
Straight to Dare's house and arous'd him 
from bed. 
" Up, my bold Pale Face, the Red Man's abroad ! 
Up, my brave fellow, and draw your good sword ! " 
Thus shouted Croatan, friend of the White, 
Calling to Dare from the gloom of the night. 
Prompt to the cry the young captain arose. 
Sounding the summons to arm for the foes. 
Cheering the timid, restraining the bold, 
Counseling young, and comforting old. 
Round through the village he hastily sped. 
Here and there dragging a sluggard from bed. 
Soon, all assembled, his followers stood. 
Off from the town, to'rd the deepening wood. 
There the young captain grasp'd Croatan's hand. 
Leading him forth to the head of the band; 
Where the old chief, for the love which he bore 
Dare's little daughter, harangu'd as of yore: 
" Friends of the Morning, brave comrades of mine, 
Ere the great sun doth again on us shine. 
Death shall career o'er the Red Man and White ; 
Men of the Forest are angry to-night. 
Croatan sought to keep peace in the land, 
Croatan strove to extinguish the brand; 



When the war council took Manteo's part, 
Croatan fled to the home of his heart. 
Sons of the East, will you trust Croatan? " 
Prompt rang the answer, " We will, to a man! " 
" Then, to the shadowy forest we'll go ; 
Deep in the forest, and deal the first blow ! " 
Soon, the weird war-cry arose o'er the isle, 
As the fray open'd in true Savage style ; 
Pistol and tomahawk, musket and bow, 
Sword and the scalping-knife, measur'd out woe. 
Ably, old Croatan wielded his troop. 
Spurring them on by his soul-stirring whoop; 
But the fierce Savages knew the wood well. 
Flanking the Saxons by hillock and dell, 
Till their responses came scatter'd and few, 
While the war-whoop of the Indians grew. 
Dare, the last one of that brave British band, 
Pierc'd by a shaft from false Manteo's hand, 
There in the shadow of Roanoke's wood, 
Pour'd out, in silence, his priceless, young blood. 
Stoutly, old Croatan, baffling attack. 
Beat his way singly, heroic'ly back ; 
Into the town, with the speed of a deer, 
Rush'd the old chief, in his faithful career. 
Then came the roll of that musty old drum. 
Known to the warrior's wee, smallest chum. 
Each sturdy lad, with his musket in hand, 
Hasten'd to swell his lov'd comrade's command, 
Bent on defending his mother and chief. 
Bent on avenging his own righteous grief. 
Down came the Savages, down from the wood; 
Breathlessly, Croatan's infantry stood. 



23 

On came the Red Men assur'd of their prey, 

Confident there was no force in the way. 

Suddenly, o'er the tumult, there rose high'r 

Croatan's word to his followers, " Fire ! " 

Startled and routed, the Savages fled. 

Leaving behind them their wounded and dead; 

While the good Croatan, into the fort, 

Led the young hardies his patience had taught. 

Wild rang the wood with the curdling war-cry, 

Wilder the echo ; again they draw nigh ! 

Then to his troop spake the good Croatan, 

" Braves, my young braves, you must each be a man! 

Mother and sister are leaning on you; 

Soldiers, stand firm ; my stout hardies, be true ! " 

Yells from the rampart cut short his harangue, 

Prompt to his duty each little man sprang. 

Charge upon charge, the assailants came on; 

(Oh, for the fleet! for the men who were gone!) 

Over and over, thrice over again, 

HandUng their weapons as if they were men. 

Laying full many an Indian low, 

Croatan's infantry baffled the foe; Jy^ 

But, when their powder and bullets v,rere gone, 

Fiercer than ever the Savage came on. 

Each little warrior, while his heart pray'd. 

Drew, from its scabbard, the glistening blade; 

And with his might dealt his heaviest blow, \ 

Here and there felling his hideous foe. 

Grimly, the Red Men, in wonder, cut down \ \ \ 

Those gallant heroes of doom'd Raleigh town. ^ 

Giantlike, Croatan wrestled his foe. 

Slaying a Savage at each mighty blow; 




f) ']/ 



^ 




^^'^ 



24 

Sight of his Ufe-blood gave him no alarm, 
Wounds lent a zest to the strength of his arm. 
'Midst the wild conflict, now here and now there, 
Wielding some weapon aloft in the air, 
Rose the strong arm of an Amazon dame 
Shielding her child or protecting its frame. 
Heart-rending, hideous, blood-curdling cries 
Point where the covetous scalping-knife plies. 
Onward, the death-struggles eddy and whirl; 
Where is Dare's daughter, the chief's little girl? 
There she lies, true to the filial behest. 
Clinging in fright to her dead mother's breast. 
Croatan's soul with one purpose was fraught ; 
Fiercer and stronger his giant arm wrought 
When he beheld the false Manteo stand, 
Wielding his tomahawk high in his hand, 
Gleaming a grim, diabolical smile. 
O'er the fair beauty of Roanoke Isle. 
Like an old tiger upon his choice prey, 
Croatan leap'd to the hand to hand fray ; 
Fiendish the fight between chieftain and chief — 
Long-studi'd vengeance and keen present-grief. 
Manteo met his assailant full well; 
Brief was the strugggle, and Manteo fell. 
Lifting the babe from its mother's chill breast, 
Croatan heard but one potent behest; 
Leaping the wall at the point where he stood. 
Nestling his treasure, he fled to the wood. 



VII 

(prater anb Mnewtt 

IRE AT Spirit, guide thy brave to-night; 
Protect this infant with thy might. 

wondrous God of brave young Dare, 

1 trust my treasure to thy care ; 
If she may Hve on, God, may I ! 
If she must perish, let me die ! " 
Thus pray'd the soul of Croatan, 
That noble-hearted, kind old man; 
And, as he pray'd, her flesh grew cold. 
The fight was done, the chief was old ; 
He gently laid her form aside, 

His great heart burst, and he, too, di'd. 




26 



j^^^^OD'S Sunday is no time for idle sloth, 

jj^^^ No time for selfish pleasure; but for growth- 

That growth which lifts the soul to realms of light, 

And makes each act a joy because 'tis right. 

Yet Sunday is, indeed, a day of rest; 

Though there are few whose words and deeds attest 

A wholesome knowledge of the character 

Of such a rest as Sunday should confer. 

A change of posture, change of scene or thought. 

Will tend to rest an organ over-wrought. 

Each humble member of the human frame 

Has special work to do, its place and name; 

Yet each in turn holds undisputed sway; 

'Tis thus God's Sunday is the Soul's High Day. 

Let meditation have its potent hour, 

Let Christian charity unfold its pow'r, 

Give rare humility its rarer due. 

And fill the place allotted in your pew. 

Be sure your household duties all are done ; 

For this with Christianity is one. 

Do not forget to lend a helping hand, 

Fulfil whate'er the daily needs demand; 

But do not let these worldly things outweigh 

God's Sunday — Sunday is the Soul's High Day. 



27 



M ^totm at (Bt)e 

I HEN the Sun in his glory has swept the broad 
sky, 

And^e twilight approaching brings ease to the eye, 
When the heat of the day, as if fearful of night, 
From the bosom of Earth wings its heavenward flight, 
When the fairy-like, dancing, electric display 
Lends a weirdness unknown to the beauty of day. 
And the dull, rumbling echo of that roar of despair 
Which accompanies lightning unsettles the air- 
When these warnings that forces, terrestrial and great, 
Are abroad upon missions assign'd them by Fate, 
It is time to call halt to the din of the day ; 
To review, to consider, each act to reweigh ; 
Ask forgiveness for sins of aggression, neglect ; 
Ask for grace our short-comings to see and correct. 
Then behold the advance of the on-coming storm, 
x\nd descry in each pillar of cloud the rare form 
Of some angel of mercy, some vision of peace, 
Some suggestion of happiness never to cease. 
In the flash of the lightning, too bright for the eye. 
There is seen the swift glance of Jehovah on high ; 
And the roll of the thunder proclaiming His pow'r, 
Is His voice from the cloud in the critical hour. 
Thus, the grandeur of nature, and beauty, combine 
In electrical storms, and the charm is divine. 




WfM WAS a little rustic lad, 
f^MJ With naked feet, and brown ; 
My heart was very, very glad, 
For pa had been to town. 



Whene'er he went to that great place. 

As he had done that day. 
He very seldom lack'd the grace 

To bring some cake away. 

So there I sat in pensive bliss. 

Devouring ginger-snaps ; 
The palate pleas'd, there's naught amiss 

With little country chaps. 



I had one pretty cake left still. 
The end of bliss drew nigh ; 

I check'd me with heroic will, 
Would eat this bye and bye. 



29 

And there upon the chopping block, 

Caress'd it in my hand ; 
But did not see the Shanghai cock, 

Or know the ill he plann'd. 

A flapping and a rush of feet — 
He had my precious cake; 

I fairly tumbled from my seat 
And follow'd in his wake. 

Around the chicken yard we sped, 

The rooster in advance ; 
I stumbled, landed on my head, 

And gave the cock his chance. 

I rose to see him stretch his neck 
And gulp the last piece down; 

He left me not one single speck 
Of what pa brought from town. 

The wisdom I thus gain'd in grief, 
I'd feign give other chaps ; 

" Procrastination is the thief " 
Of youngsters' ginger-snaps. 



m 



30 



HERE is a fairy in the land 
Whose worth no mortal knows 



Who toils with head, and heart, and hand. 
To soften others' woes. 

She cheers the sad, assists the dull, 

And gives the weary rest; 
Where'er she goes the world is full 

Of lives her life has blest. 

She joins the merry in their mirth, 

Responds to quiet wit; 
Instils new hope where there's a dearth. 

Inspires new vim and grit. 

Her own great griefs, great sorrows, ills, 

No one but God doth know ; 
And, yet, the happiness which fills 

Her life sets all aglow. 

Great Father of the earth and sky, 

Make me so good and true; 
Grant me the grace before I die 

To be a fairy, too. 



31 



(TU^ (gonnie (gn^e 

^^^HE laddies and the lasses 
||[^^| Are two distinctive classes, 

Wherever found. 
The one is bold and daring. 
The other, meek and sparing. 

The world around. 

Of all the winsome lasses. 
There's one who far surpasses 

The multitude. 
There's nothing crude about her ; 
Refinement weeps without her, 

In solitude, 

I love her gentle manner; 
I love to sit and fan her, 

At eventide. 
Stand back, ye lads and lasses ; 
Behold her as she passes — 

My bonnie bride ! 



^ 



32 

borrow 

|HE sorrow of the stricken heart 
Is present with us all; 
We grieve for friends, when they depart, 
Because our faith is small. 

Could we but feel as we do think 

When Reason sits in state. 
There were no woe upon the brink, 

No wailing at the gate. 

O pray for steadfast faith to feel 

A joy when friends depart, 
For faith to know that Heaven's real, 

For faith to brace the heart. 



]AY has come with all its flowers. 
All its fragrance, balm, and hue; 
Flitting round their dainty bowers. 
Yonder birdies work and woo. 

Could T now, like them, be building 
Home and hearth-stone for my mate, 

All the world would change its gilding. 
Vest itself in festive state. 

Let me, O my King and Master 

Taste such joy before I die; 
Ointment seal'd in alabaster 

Cannot soothe an infant's cry. 




33 

(m^ (monger 

GAIN, the vari'd seasons flown, 

Sweet, verdant Spring reclaims her own 
And, with her tender finger tip. 
Once more, dyes red the purple lip. 
She smiles, and Winter flees away; 
She smiles again, and all is May; 
Where yonder earth lay bare and cold. 
Fair flowers flourish manifold. 
She calls her dainty feather'd brood, 
Sets them to work by multitude; 
And draws her beauty from the art 
Of them she teaches to impart. 
Fit virgin she to hail the birth 
Of Heaven's choicest gift to Earth; 
Her mildness wraps the infant round, 
Her sweetness in its heart is found, 
Her animation fires its soul. 
And her perfection names its goal. 
Such infant, mother, once wast thou ; 
And such the nurse who lav'd thy brow. 
Full well hast thou, these many years, 
Disarm'd her anxious, loving fears; 
And, true to Heaven's treasur'd hope. 
Lent all thy virtues boundless scope. 
I greet thee with a son's caress, 
I glory in thy faithfulness, 
I hail thee at this festive time 
With feeble, but devoted rhyme. 
And bid the future hold in store 
A blither lot than heretofore — 
Yet brighter days, devoted still 
To God's unerring, holy will. 
3 




ZU (S^iv^t ^n^ t^t (goad 

[E are friends," the River said. 

Quoth the Road, " We cannot wed ; 
Though our ways He very near, 
Though I often sip thy cheer, 
Yet the gloomy forests rise 
'Twixt where coach and vessel plies. 
And for miles I can but be 
Absent pleasure unto thee. 



Could our ways be merg'd in one, 
Where, then, would the coaches run? 
Or wert thou absorb'd in me, 
What would come of yonder sea? " 
"True, indeed," the River said; 
" It would not do for us to wed ; 
Yet there can be naught amiss. 
When we meet, for us to kiss." 



36 

|HY ship is launch'd, young friend. 
Upon life's restless sea; 
Let modest prudence be 
The pilot to the end. 

Not prudence bom of men; 
But wisdom from on High, 
Which pointeth to the sky — 
A far transcendent ken. 

Keep well beyond the rocks; 
Our frail barks cannot stand 
Much grinding on the sand 
Or many breaker shocks. 

When thou must enter port, 
Sound well the channel's bed. 
Steer steadfastly ahead, 
With Christ as thy support. 

When storms assail thy bark, 
Head foremost to the wave; 
For God is sworn to save 
The righteous in His Ark. 

Success to thee, and wealth, 
My former schoolmate, friend; 
May all thy virtues blend 
In holiness and health. 



37 



I^^EAR after year steals softly by ; 

Yet we survive, both you and I. 



Hope after hope comes but to fly ; 
Yet we hope on, both you and I. 

Fear after fear is born to die ; 
Yet we are fearful, you and I. 

Grief after grief forgets its sigh; 
Yet we grieve on, both you and I. 

Joy after joy brings Heaven nigh; 
Yet we are earthy, you and I. 

O let us look upon the sky — 
Upon God's Heaven, you and I. 

And, as the years in silence fly. 
May we grow better, you and I; 

That when the Gates swing wide on High, 
We both may enter, you and I. 



38 

HEN — the summer sun descended, 
Daylight ended, 
And the soothing twilight flown — 
All is peaceful relaxation 

And cessation. 
Then 'tis well to be alone. 

When the timid summer shower 

O'er my bower 
Patters down like fairy feet, 
O'er my restless spirit, stealing, 

Comes a feeling 
Kin to blissfulness complete. 

Kindness fills my very being; 

But for fleeing 
Ere the morrow brings its toil, 
Oft would leave a word unspoken, 

Heart unbroken, 
Prove the Tempter's fatal foil. 

But the gentle patter ceases, 

And releases 
Thought to wander far and wide; 
Slumber steals away the notion, 

Lays emotion. 
Puts the kind impulse aside. 



39 

How much greater were our pleasure 

Could we measure 
Upward to the soul's ideal! 
Yet each struggle lifts us nearer. 

Makes it dearer, 
Brings less woe and greater weal. 

Each pure rain-drop sent from Heaven 

Is a leaven 
For the sinful soul of man ; 
Give it place that it engender 

Thoughts more tender, 
More in keeping with God's plan. 



(Upon a Bab^'e ^oe 

^P^^HERE is a lady, whom I know, 
[^^^^1 Whose troubles center in her toe. 
She tried to dig one trouble out, 
But this brought other woes about. 
They made her faint, they made her weep. 
And robb'd her of refreshing sleep. 
They drove her from her daily toils. 
And pained her like a thousand boils. 
But now, they tell me, she prevails; 
That she no longer weeps and wails. 
I hope 'tis true that her great toe 
No longer hurts the lady so; 
And that she'll soon appear again 
To straighten out these crooked mea 



a 



40 



NE needs a little " sister/ 



'; To cheer him day by day ; 
For though he may not kiss her. 
She drives the gloom away. 

I have a little " sister " 

Who greets me night and morn ; 
And when I chance to miss her, 

The day drags out, forlorn. 

She owns a little corner 
Within my inmost heart, 

And I would be a mourner, 
Should little sis depart. 

But should she like her corner, 
And grow too big to fit, 

That I might not be mourner, 
I'd trade a room for it. 

Then should this little " sister " 
Outgrow her larger space. 

Though I may not have kiss'd her. 
My heart's her dwelling place. 



41 

jo kittens wear mittens 
Whene'er they go out? 
When kittens wear mittens, 
Young mice are about. 

What have mittens on kittens 
To do with young mice? 

'Tis the kittens in mittens 
Who think them so nice. 

Most kittens wear mittens 
To hide their sharp claws, 

All kittens in mittens 
Have teeth in their jaws. 

If lasses are kittens, 
Then laddies are mice ; 

If follies are mittens-, 

Pray, what is their price? 



B|^^yAVE you made the day brighter? 
EJp^J Have you made a heart lighter? 

God will reward you. 
Your own hidden sorrow 
Will be joy on the morrow; 

God will reward you. 






s^^^^^^^^m 




dElrf^ur 



AM a lively little lad, 

Just eight years old to-day; 
Sometimes I'm good, sometimes I'm bad, 

And all times full of play. 




I am a hopeful little prince, 

Some day I'll be a king. 
I'll not be dainty, pick, and mince ; 

I'll hustle ev'rything. 

" King Arthur " shall my title be 
" King Arthur," how it sounds ! 

My cottage shall my castle be; 
My kingdom, cot and grounds. 

Of all the subjects in my realm, 

I'll first subdue the king; 
And when he's ready for the helm, 

He'll pilot ev'rything. 



> 



43 

ZU (Boae of Bift 

Ej^^^OW oft we build in Hope's fair vale, 
KiBM Beside the river Youth! 
How oft we tell the same sad tale 
Of Time's relentless tooth. 

How oft we lay our gardens out, 
And hedge them in with care ! 

How Satan, stealing round about, 
Sows seeds of discord there ! 

How oft we toil up Favor Hill, 

(Abode of Spruce and Pine), 
To learn that distance lendeth, still, 

A charm of scene, divine ! 

How oft we enter Friendship Cot, 

And nestle down to rest; 
But, waking, find our friends are not, 

And we no welcome guest! 

How oft we put full trust in self. 

Forgetting we are dust! 
How we are cast upon the shelf 

To mould, there, or to rust! 

O God! O Christ! O Holy One! 

O " Love Which Maketh Free! " 
Lest we forever be undone, 

Draw us through faith to Thee. 



44 



]Y heart is fondly longing, 
Dear, for thee ; 
When wilt thou grant its fervent pray'r, 

And come to me? 
The airy dome is whirling, 

Far and wide, 
With graceful, flitting forms of thee, 
Oft multipli'd. 

I love to see thy phantom 

Glide about, 
And often think to fold it near 

By reaching out; 
But, no, the dainty coquette 

Flees away, 
And leaves me to the gloom of night 

Or glow of day. 

'Tis then, dear one, I miss thee — 

Miss thee sore; 
But could I fold thee, fold thee near 

Forevermore. 
My panting heart were happy. 

Light, and gay; 
My life a verdant, genial spring, 

A balmy May. 



45 



^^in^ (^mfietre 



^mjlRIEND of days departed, 
ly^^^ Kind friend of years gone by, 
Why this speaking silence? 
O why this mute reply? 

Life hath little in it, 

When friends asunder part ; 

Heaven were a Hades, 
Without a kindred heart. 

Dark the way, and dreary. 
Where only strangers tread; 

Sad the heart, and weary. 

Whose friendships all are dead. 



Stir the dying embers 
Of love within thy breast. 

Lest death's chill December 
Exile some would-be guest. 

Grasp the hand which us'd to 
Bring comfort in its grip, 

And henceforth refuse to 
Allow that hand to slip. 



46 





y 



3, ©ream of (^tcXt^ 

(ERE I a monomillionaire, 

How would I use my money? 
Had I the paltry price to spare, 
I'd buy a pound of honey. 

Were this great fortune from my sire, 

I'd likely boast about it; 
And, quenching ev'ry moral fire, 

Would soon exist without it. 

Were I a miser, gaunt and sour, 

I'd hide it in some corner. 
And nurse it there until the hour 

When I should be a " goner." 

Were I a youth, some " mutton-head," 
I'd spend it on my back, sir; 

And, when my million wheels had fled, 
I'd call myself " a jack," sir. 

Were I a fool, I'd give a ball. 

Invite the foolish to it; 
And, midst the envy of them all, 

I'd run, in glee, right through it. 

Had I no wealth of common sense. 
No doubt, I'd soon be senseless ; 

For, one by one, I'd lose my pence. 
And, thereby, soon be penceless. 

But, were my soul in proper tune. 
Did wisdom rule my reason, 

I'd answer at the " Great Tribune " 
For all my wealth, in season. 



47 

RUE friends, and loyal, are not found 
At every turn in life; 
But shrewd deceivers hover round — 

Low traitors in the strife. - ^ 

'Tis meet that friendship, true and tri'd 

Should have a friend's reward ; 
This token is, that we abide 

In friendship still unmarr'd. 

The day is fitting for the deed, 

The deed reflects the heart ; 
May you ne'er know a single need 

True friendship can impart. 



^ranemteeion 

]Y heart is gay with fragrant flowers, 
Blooming in the light of love; 
My soul is dotted o'er with bowers. 
Fraught with treasure from Above. 




^rw 



Shall I, whose gardens beam in beauty, 
Let my flowers fade and die? 

Or, coupling pleasure unto duty. 
Shall I deck the passer-by ? 

Shall I, whose soul is rich in treasure, 
Keep my wealth, a miser's hoard. 

Or shall I deal it without measure. 
In obedience to my Lord? 



'J 




IS good to have a mother 



1^^^ Above the heartless turf; 



Her gentle hand and kind command 
Are cherish'd as none other, 

Alike by king and serf. 
Her voice is sweetest, ever. 

To him who knows her worth. 
'Tis not the great, the high in state. 
The popular, the clever, 

The excellent by birth, 
Who most esteem the mother; 

'Tis oft the poor and sad, 
The brown-hu'd skin from want grown thin, 
The prey of some rich brother 

Who stalks in ermine clad. 
The mother's anxious teaching 

Outweighs the sage's ken; 
'Tis fraught with love from Him above, 
'Tis ever busy bleaching 
The sin-stain'd souls of men. 
She knows the strength of leaven. 

Dispenses it with care; 
Her magic wand is Christ's own hand, 



49 

In mercy stretch'd from Heaven, 
In answer to her pray'r. 

And now, my own fond mother, 
Thou gem of gems to me, 

If to thy boy may come such joy, 

God grant him yet one other 
True treasure like to thee. 



l^^^'M a ship ; thou art my anchor, 

^^^ After whom I'm bound to hanker. 

When thou divest, I must swim; 

When thou risest to the brim, 

Caught by ev'ry passing gale 

I obey my fickle sail. 

Till again thou anch'rest me 

On the wild and stormy sea. 

Thus, as time wings swiftly by. 

Gratefully my pen I ply. 

Greeting thee this natal day. 

Driving sober thoughts away. 

May thou live to good, old age, 

Wear the specs which mark the sage, 

Have false hair upon thy pate, 

Have false teeth and wear a plate, 

Have all good things grannies eat, 

Have the gout in both thy feet. 



c 



c.=-f^, 



50 

M ^ifrer (?E)ee»6ing 

WHAT a solemn, happy day, 
Now five-and-twenty years away, 
When " Old Dominion's " fair young bride 
Stood, smiling, at her bridegroom's side ! 
The " Old, Old Story " ever wears 
A pristine freedom from all cares ; 
And, when, the solemn service done, 
The seal affix'd to love long won, 
The stately couple turn'd to go — 
His cheeks all pallid, hers aglow — 
They saw their progress down the aisle 
Restrain'd by proffer'd kiss and smile; 
The former was the bride's reward, 
The latter for her late-made lord. 
Their rightful kiss the grandsires claim ; 
The youngsters, swooping on their game. 
With blushing cheek and beaming eye, 
Takes, each, his kiss, half on the sly ; 
The " Sweet Sixteen " (whom all the while 
Anticipation lends a smile), 
Trips lightly forward, claims her share. 
And turns in haste to disappear ; 
But when the grandmammas advance, 
The yet-unfavor'd look askance. 
For well they know the ancient way 
In which grand-dames beguile the day. 
Still each, in turn, with vari'd pride. 
Bore off his booty from the bride ; 
And she, the trying ordeal o'er, 
With cheeks yet redder than before, 



51 

Swept, queenlike, on, with airy tread, 
Beside her knight — whose pallor fled, 
Now bore himself with kingly pride. 
And led away his winsome bride. 
Full many an autumn, since that day, 
Has roU'd its withered leaves away ; 
And now their Silver Wedding come 
Amid the blessings of a home. 
May joy and comfort yet be theirs, 
By grace of God, for many years ; 
And when their spirits homeward fly 
To Him who doth all life supply, 
I know they'll rest beneath the wing 
Of their belov'd and loving King. 



^M NEVAH has a birfday, now ; 
^^ Jis 'cause I'se gittin' ole, I 'low. 
Ef folks could onct forgit da knack 
O' talkin' wen day's lookin' back, 
O' tellin' wen, o' nigh about, 
A gal in 'ciety done come out. 
She mout den stan some kine a show — 
Be inny age, o' less, o' mo'e. 
An' den da young folks gits da cue 
An' goes a talkin', so dey do ! 
An', dreckly, all da beaus drap off; 
Da lub-win whis roun' to da nawf ; 
Da pickaninnies pints an' grins, 
An' talks out loud 'bout wrinkle chins. 



1 I- 



52 

" Dah haint no use ! " I'se often heerd ; 
Dah haint no use I'se mighty fear'd 
To hide dese wrinkles an' dese hairs, 
To smother all dese groans an' cares — 
Jis puts me in a pow'ful rage 
Wen folks keeps blabbin' out yoh age ! 
Yes, I is gittin' ole, I 'low ; 
An' nevah has a birfday, now. 



Mn ^pita^^ 



^^S^-ERE lie the remnants of a man, 
(Jp^^ '^^^ portion which alone can die, 
Whose life was as an infant's span 
Against the vastness of the sky — 

The dead cocoon of spirit man, 
The " dust to dust," the earthworm's prey, 
The school-house where the soul began 
Its growth, the temple proud of clay — 

Consign'd now to its native place 

To be forgotten, waste away, 
That there be born, with greater grace, 

A spirit mould, from its decay. 

The houseless soul rests in retreat 
Where all departed spirits hie. 

Until its new-born flesh complete 
The man immortal of the sky. 



iHO told me first of Marathon? 

Who led my youthful mind, in awe, 
Aloft the pyramid, 
Extoll'd the " Son of Macedon," 
Explain'd the ancient " Salic law," 
And prais'd the Spanish " Cid"? 

Who drew the beauty from the rhyme 
Dan Chaucer's genius left to men. 

And kindly show'd it me? 
Who soar'd with me the heights sublime 
Of stern John Milton's awful pen, 

And smil'd at Bob Burns's glee? 

Who my imagination bore, 

On wings well feather'd for the flight. 

Athwart the starlit sky? 
Who op'd the door of Euclid's store. 
Exposing reason's gems to light 

And bidding error fly? 

Who guided, all unknown to me. 
My feeble, halting thought aright. 

And stirr'd my flagging zeal? 
'Twas one, now dwelling o'er the sea. 
My honor'd teacher whose delight 

Was e'er her pupil's weal. 



54 

I knew not then, as I know now, 
The loving wisdom of my guide; 

Else, had I priz'd her lore. 
May wreaths of laurel crown her brow, 
When Heaven throws its portal wide 

For her, forevermore. 



^tombcnct 



NGEL-LIKE, she flitted in 
And stole our hearts away ; 
She drew us music from the din 
Of life's tumultuous day. 

To us, like some sweet bird of song, 
She came with joyous strain; 

And, when the day was dark and long, 
Brought sunshine through the rain. 

The " Holy Dove of Galilee," 

Upon her brow found rest; 
That " perfect love which maketh free " 

Abode within her breast. 

" God doth His own in safety keep," 
And fold them to His breast; 

He bore her, in an infant's sleep, 
To His eternal rest 



55 



<S)mu 



M 

m 



LL over-wrought desire 
Exiles our inward peace, 
Begets unrighteous ire, 
Destroys Love's golden lyre. 

And bids her music cease. 
The envious war-cry 

Of cruel Greed is heard. 
As Love can neither die 
Nor stay, she needs must fly; 

But, like some mother bird 
Upon whose cherish'd nest 

A stronger spreads its wing, 
She hovers with her breast 
Upheav'd, nor seeks her rest, 

Nor has the heart to sing. 
Down — down — the soul is hurl'd 

Amid consuming fire; 
Unless it spurn the world 
And have the pinions furl'd 

Of over-wrought desire. 
If so, Love flutters in 

And soothes the care-worn soul; 
While, Greed's impatient din 
Now banish'd with its sin. 

The Spirit seeks its goal. 




•poung Mm cvica 

Y father kept a flock of sheep ; 
He kept a dog the sheep to keep, 
And fed him thrice a day. 
'Twas early on a May-day morn, 
Some six years after I was bom, 
I heard my father say, — 

" Come, Matthew " (Matthew was our man), 
" Must get through shearing if we can 

This very afternoon ! " 
With this, they started for the pen ; 
While I, more anxious than the men, 

Could not arrive too soon. 

Old Matthew, by a streak of luck, 
Made one wild dash and caught a buck, 

The leader of the flock. 
They bound him with a good, stout cord. 
And laid him helpless on the board 

To rally from the shock. 



57 

As I was not so very tall 

And wish'd to have a view of all, 

Without my father's ken, 
I climb'd upon a pile of sacks 
Heap'd up within the cattle racks. 

Outside, against the pen. 

I watch'd the white wool rolling back, 
Beheld the shears' advancing track. 

And wonder'd at the sight; 
I saw my skillful parent's shears 
Trim neatly round the old buck's ears, 

And beam'd with pure delight. 

But, soon, " His Majesty " was shorn 
From cloven hoof to spreading horn. 

And father cut the cord. 
The buck knew not that he was free; 
Or else he scorn'd his liberty. 

And lay there on the board. 

But when Pa tapp'd him with the shears, 
He seem'd beset with fiendish fears. 

And sprang out into space. 
Entangling me within his feet, 
He bore me from my stolen seat, 

Down flat upon my face. 

I made the spacious welkin ring; 

And blubber'd out, " You mean old thing ! 

You tore my hat and shirt! 
I'd like to beat you ! so I would ! 
I'd do it, too! I'd beat you good! 

I'd wallow you in dirt ! " 



58 

But off he ran, that horrid buck ; 
While I bewail'd the cruel luck 

Which let him thus go free. 
And looking round me at those sacks 
Heap'd up within the cattle racks, 

I sigh'd, " No more for me ! " 



jfai^§'0 ©ominion 

S thou sailest o'er the sea 
In yonder gorgeous palace, 
Know the Earth is made for thee. 
And bear no creature malice. 



M 



When thou gazest on the deep 
In fury lash'd to madness. 

Know that none but weaklings weep, 
And purge thy heart of sadness. 

When thou breathest, from the brine, 
Fresh, bracing airs of heaven. 

Know the Universe is thine. 
In trust for all time given. 

And when life's uncertain sea 
No longer foams and surges. 

Know that Christ will welcome thee. 
While we but sing thee dirges. 



59 



1^ 



HE stars unwonted twinkle wore, 
The smiling queen of sparkling night 
Rose full of grace and upward bore, 
Entrancing all in silver light. 

The dewdrop glisten'd diamond bright; 

The glowworm shed its fitful light; 
While, from her perch secure from sight. 

The whippoorwill bewitch'd the night. 

The breezes lisp'd, the flowers smil'd, 
The brooks their sweetest music play*d ; 

Dame Nature, like a merry child, 
Her ev'ry pleasing art display'd. 

At midnight, rose all beasts and birds, 
Who sang their praises to the Lord, 

And then, in tones of love, these words, 
" Virginia, sweet Virginia Ford ! 

" A virgin infant's born to-night. 

Whose glance shall far outweigh the sword 
Of thousands in the cause of right — 

Virginia, sweet Virginia Ford! 

" An ideal daughter, mother, wife. 

Whose virtues bring their own reward, 

This maid shall lead a holy life — 
Virginia, sweet Virginia Ford! 

" And when at last her spirit flies 

To seek the bosom of its Lord, 
Angelic song shall fill the skies — 

Virginia, sweet Virginia Ford ! " 




{pit^'e (Dp,(UnRin6 



m 



^F all the ills my soul has borne, 
The illest here ensues; 
It chanc'd within a church, one morn. 
Where good folks rent the pews. 

The sexton met me first of all. 

" Good morning, sir," quoth he ; 
And then I heard a smother'd call — 

" Here, usher, he can't see ! " 

I pass'd on to the usher's care. 

" Good morning, sir," said he ; 
" I've not a single seat to spare. 

'Tis sad you cannot see." 

To usher two, then passing by, 

I heard the first repeat, 
" He cannot see ; I wish you'd try 

To find a vacant seat." 

I pass'd on to the second's care. 

" My pews are full," quoth he ; 
" It must be very hard to bear? 

I'm sorry you can't see." 



6i 

Just then, a third came stalking by. 

" Good morning, sir," said he ; 
" I'm sorry, for I've fill'd the last. 

Oh, truly, can't you see? " 

A fourth came swinging down the aisle; 

And, beckon'd by the three. 
With pompous bearing all the while, 

Strode straightway up to me. 

" This man is blind," the three broke in; 

" Have you a seat to spare? " 
The soul of man is prone to sin ; 

My impulse was to swear. 

" Good morning, sir; how do you do? " 
Quoth he with smother'd vim ; 

While all the three in haste withdrew. 
And left me there with him. 

" I think," said he, " there is a seat 
(Providing you don't mind) ; 

'Tis almost at the parson's feet — 
But, how became you blind? " 

He led me to an amen pew, 
Where good, devout folks sit ; 

And then I thought his mission through, 
Thought surely he would quit. 

But, no ; with trembling voice quoth he, 

" 'Tis awful to be blind ! 
Perchance, some happy day you'll see ; 

For Heaven's not unkind." 



62 

The service and the sermon there 

Had little charm for me ; 
The only text which I could hear 

Was, " Usher, he can't see ! " 

I left the church that Sunday morn, 
With this thought in my mind, 

"There is no rose without its thorn " : 
Thus, Pity's oft unkind. 



Out ^uaMan 



Against the Evil One; 
And teach us to rely on Thee, 
God's lone " Begotten Son." 

O help us all to be content 

With what is ours below, 
And not upon earth's riches bent; 

Support us in our woe. 

And when the " Judgment Day," at last, 

Doth dawn upon our sight, 
May we not long to cloak the past, 

But stand upon Thy right. 

On high with Thee, O Jesu dear, 

We'll join Thy holy choir; 
Nor shall the Tempter enter there, 

Nor shall Thy children tire. 




Cran0gre00ion 

WAS when I rode upon the harrows 
And my sober thoughts were few, 
Where swains roll out the heavy barrows 

And the hoppers sip the dew, 
Where cattle browse midst bush and thistle, 

Owls proclaim their solitude. 
The partridge sounds his clear-cut whistle, 

Catbird playing interlude — 
That, on a sultry summer's morning, 

As I revel'd at my ease, 
A calf, despite all previous warning, 

Nibbled at our nursery trees. 
Dear Aunt Priscilla cri'd out, " Johnny ! 

Run, O run ! my honey, run ! " 
I ran as fast as any honey, 

Even in such summer sun. 
Right on, I hurri'd, empty-handed. 

Thinking that the beast would go 
The very instant I commanded. 

Or pretended at a blow. 



64 

And yet, he did possess a liking 

For the sport of butting folks ; 
Nor are there many things more striking 

Than a calf's selected jokes. 
My age was somewhat over seven, 

And my sight was rather poor; 
The sun beam'd from a cloudless heaven 

As I gaily onward bore. 
The calf was red, and my weak vision 

Dazzled by the glowing light, 
I fail'd to see the bold derision, 

See his attitude for fight; 
And rush'd upon the brute, mistaking 

Head for tail and tail for head. 
What gave me that tremendous shaking? 

Was I living still, or dead? 
Upon the ground I sprawl'd, while o'er me 

Tramp'd that saucy, warlike beast ; 
His ragged hoofs both skinn'd and tore me ; 

Twenty butts he gave, at least. 
I shouted, " Stop it ! " roll'd and tumbled ; 

But the calf kept up its sport. 
My boyish pride was somewhat humbled ; 

But my temper, greatly wrought. 
The creature wax'd more enterprising ; 

Growing fiercer than before, 
Whenever he beheld me rising, 

Squar'd himself and gave me more. 
At length, in pain and desperation, 

Catching firmly hold his ears 
(O what a golden inspiration! 

How it check'd my rising tears!) 



65 

I sprang upon my feet beside him; 

Then bestow'd myself astride 
His rosy back, and there defi'd him 

To reverse the battle tide. 
Yet was there danger there astraddle, 

'Twas a most uneasy seat; 
I wish'd for stirrups and a saddle, 

Struggled with my dangling feet. 
The calf, perceiving he was master. 

Took it in his head to run ; 
The more I yell'd, he ran the faster; 

Bent, it seem'd, on having fun. 
On to'rd the old frog branch he hurri'd, 

Clear'd it with a single bound. 
How ma, when I went home was worri'd ! 

How the washer-woman f rown'd ! 
I lost my boasted hold, and tumbled. 

Headlong, into muck and mire; 
And there my charger, nothing humbled, 

Left me tangled in a brier. 
But, friends, I must make one confession — 

I had taught that calf his tricks ; 
So, 'twas the fruit of my transgression, 

Measur'd out in butts and kicks. 



i 



66 




Jgope 

I HE temple, moulded of the sod, 
Must seek its own again ; 
The spirit, image of its God, 

Alone survives of men. 
God giveth with a lavish hand; 

And, though he take again, 
His children needs must understand, 
The soul survives of men. 



His mercies cluster round about. 

Each joy is from His hand; 
The cowing fear and halting doubt 

Are laid at His command. 
He teacheth us to love our friends; 

Affection is His wand, 
To whose mild touch the tyrant bends 

And stays his cruel hand. 

God bindeth daughter unto sire, 

The husband to the wife. 
In love which prompteth the desire 

To bless each other's life; 
And, when their love hath wax'd and grown, 

He parteth them a space, 
To reunite them at His throne. 

To crown them with His grace. 



■^^^K 



67 

'Twere vain to bid the lonely heart 

Dismiss its tender grief; 
For 'tis the whole of Nature's art, 

When stung, to find relief. 
Yet, do not let us blindly grope 

In depths of dire despair; 
But lend the living spark of hope 

To ev'ry loving tear. 



68 



^jfi ROM Cuba's broad plantation, 

1^^] From Puerto Rico's shore, 
Where'er the Spanish nation 

Hath spent the land in gore, 
From Philippine's dark daughter, 

From Caroline's fair strand, 
The cry comes o'er the water, 

" O stay the tyrant's hand ! " 

What though the ground-down Cuban, 

Starv'd out, crawl off to die. 
Though crimes the most inhuman 

Have drawn the Malay's cry. 
Though long the distant thunder 

Hath told the coming storm. 
Yet Spain, by crime and blunder, 

Doth stifle just reform. 

Shall we whose arms are strengthen'd 

By freedom dearly bought, 
Permit the season lengthen'd 

Ere she be better taught? 
On, with the righteous thunder 

Of cannon-ball and shell; 
While Old World nations wonder. 

Deal justice full and well. 



69 

Flash, flash, ye wires of lightning; 

Resound, ye telephones; 
For Freedom's star is bright'ning, 

And Spain's dark tyrant groans, 
" Humanity forever ! " 

Let fair Columbia sing, 
Till Freedom's staunch endeavor 

Prostrate the tyrant king. 



70 




dEl6ieu 

j^^^OOD-BYE, but not farewell; 
g^^^ Adieu, to meet again; 
Few hopes that quill or tongue can tell 
Are deeirer unto men. 




Adieu, for things must change ; 

Good-bye, yet not for long. 
Faint not because the road is strange, 

God's way cannot be wrong. 

Once more, adieu, good-bye! 

Our woe augments our weal ; 
The cloud which skirts the sunset sky 

But makes its beauty real. 




God give thee faith and grace 

To see His way aright, 
To know His world is not a place 

Of dark, eternal night. 

God grant thee hope to cheer 

In forest, mead, or glen; 
And bless thy efforts year by year — 

Adieu, to meet again ! 



^-A^ 27 l^oa 




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